Diana Palmer - Fire and Ice

“We’ve gotten off the track,” Margie murmured, the smile back on her face like magic. “What were you so excited about? A chance to make Mount Rushmore change his mind?”

Jan blinked. “Mount Rushmore?”

“Cannon Van Dyne.”

“Uh, yes, actually.” Her eyes were wary after the long conversation, and she hesitated. “Andy’s made a dinner reservation for four at Louis Dane’s tomorrow night.”

Margie straightened and walked over to the curtains, her back as stiff as old Mrs. McPherson’s. “Four?”

Jan nodded. “You, me, Andy…”

“And…?”

Jan swallowed. “Cannon Van Dyne.”

Two

Margie’s green eyes took on a peculiar glitter as she said, “No! Absolutely not!”

“You both got off to a bad start,” Jan reminded her. “And you helped—you know you did—with that horrible dress. I wasn’t deserting you; I just thought if the two of you were left alone together…” She groaned. “Oh, I made a mess of it myself by not telling you why I wanted you to go to the restaurant. But Margie, you don’t know how important Cannon’s approval is. I can’t ask Andy to give up his family and his inheritance all at once just for my sake. I can’t!” She gave Margie a pleading glance. “And I can’t fight Cannon alone; I’m not strong enough. I can’t even pretend that I’ve got a chance against him.”

“And you think I have?” Margie asked.

“Yes, because you aren’t afraid of him,” Jan said. “I’ve seen you charm men. When you turn on that smile and act like yourself, you draw them like flies.”

Margie looked shocked. “If you think I’d deliberately lead that bulldozer on…”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Jan said quickly. “Never would I do that to you. But you have a knack for getting people to listen to you, for drawing them out. You could convince Cannon that I’m not too young and stupid and unaccomplished to become a Van Dyne,” she continued, unabashed.

“I’m not sure I want you to become one,” Margie said with a flash of resentment. “You know very well how I feel about cliques and snobbery. And for that matter, don’t you think it’s time you told Andy about Dad’s drinking? You can’t hide your past forever.”

Jan nodded her head, looking guilty for a moment. “I know. I was hoping to tell him down in Panama City. It’s just that our backgrounds are so different. And Cannon doesn’t think I can cope with their lifestyle—or make Andy happy.”

“You most certainly could,” Margie argued. “You have poise and terrific manners. And you learned how to organize dinner parties for your boss, with his wife’s help….”

“See?” Jan grinned. “You’re already sure I could make the grade. All you have to do is sell me to Cannon.”

“Slavery was abolished by Lincoln,” Margie pointed out.

“Margie!”

“The tycoon wouldn’t listen,” came the sullen reply. “He’s a card-carrying chauvinist with delusions of upper-crust grandeur. So arrogant…imagine, a man who makes ladies’ underthings being arrogant!” Her face contorted and she burst into giggles. “Jan, suppose you get Andy to filch me a lacy set of underwear for my statue of Venus…imagine what Mrs. James would say!”

Jan couldn’t repress a laugh. Margie, in this mood, was hilarious. “Okay, I’ll do it. Now will you please come to dinner with us tomorrow night? Maybe you can get me that invitation to Panama City.”

Margie sighed. “Has it ever occurred to you that I might be more of a detriment to you than an asset? I ought to be horsewhipped for deliberately giving him the wrong impression tonight. I don’t even know why I did it.” She groaned, swinging back her long, tangled hair. “It’s this awful deadline I’m on, with only a month to go, and the book isn’t going well at all….” Her eyes met Jan’s. “Darling, I’m sorry. I’ll try to make amends tomorrow night. I’ll bite my tongue in half if it will help, truly I will. And one way or another, we’ll get you that invitation to Panama City!”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Jan said affectionately. She hugged her sister hard. “It will all work out. You’ll see.”

* * *

But as Margie dressed for dinner the following evening, she wasn’t convinced of that. She stared at her reflection in the mirror with grave misgivings.

Her dress was simple—a mass of black chiffon with a slightly sensuous v-neck surrounded by ruffles. She had put her rebellious black hair in a high knot on top of her head, with wisps falling around her face, and schooled herself to look sedate. She was sparing with her makeup and chose a perfume with a light, flowery, almost innocent scent. She looked so different from the practiced seductress of the previous night that she imagined Cannon Van Dyne might not even recognize her.

When Jan saw her irrepressible sister, she had to smother a laugh. “My, what a difference,” she said. “You remind me of Grandmother McPherson.”

“Well, it’s her house. Or it was.” She sighed. “I guess some of her rubbed off on me. At least this won’t shock your horrible future brother-in-law.”

“Care to bet?” Jan grinned.

Margie sighed, noticing how lovely Jan looked in her pale green sheath dress with its matching accessories. She was so radiant, so obviously in love with her Andy. Margie liked Andy herself. He was so open and friendly.

“Well, shall we go down?”

“Better, I guess,” Jan said. “They’ll be here any minute.”

Margie went downstairs into the living room with her sister and sat nervously on the edge of the sofa.

“Will you relax?” Jan teased. “I’m the one who should be nervous. I’ve never been around Cannon for longer than the time it took to say hello.”

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Margie actually jumped.

Jan stared at her incredulously. She’d never seen Margie so keyed up. “It’s okay,” she soothed, touching her sister’s rigid shoulder as she went to answer the door.

Margie stood up, gathering her nerve. He wouldn’t get the best of her, she thought stubbornly. She wouldn’t let him put her down again.

She heard voices: Andy’s pleasant, friendly one—and a deeper, harsher one.

Her fingers clutched her purse as Andy came into the room, followed by Cannon. Andy was almost Cannon’s height, but he lacked the bulk and muscular trim of his older brother. He had light brown hair and light brown eyes, and a face that combined strength and tenderness. He was good-looking, but Jan obviously thought he was the handsomest man alive—if her expression was anything to go by. Andy put a protective arm around her and bent to kiss her softly, despite Cannon’s disapproving glare.

“I think I’ve got that invitation—from Mother herself,” Andy whispered to Jan before he lifted his head. “Evening, Margie,” he added in a louder voice.

“Good evening,” Margie said quietly, her nervous gaze going to Cannon. He was taking in her appearance with an I-don’t-believe-it stare, and seemed to have missed the hushed exchange between Andy and Jan.

Cannon looked more formidable than ever. His evening clothes accentuated his masculinity until it was threatening. The dark material clung to powerful muscles that seemed to ripple under the expensive cloth as he moved. He was graceful for a man his size, and light on his feet. His hands were dark and big, and beautiful in their own way. He wore only a single gold signet ring, and a thin, fabulously expensive gold watch nestled in the thick hairs at the back of his wrist. Margie wondered if the rest of his sensuous body was covered in that same dark hair, and she caught her breath at her uncharacteristic thought.

Cannon’s thick hair gleamed almost black under the light; his deep-set brown eyes glared at Margie.